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Server time: 2018-12-16, 11:45
Colt Kalo
Character information
  1. Mental
    Refreshed and ready
  2. Morale
    High
  3. Date of birth
    1990-09-11 (28 years old)
  4. Place of birth
    Brooklyn, New York
  5. Nationality
    American
  6. Ethnicity
    Caucasian
  7. Languages
    English
  8. Family
    Roy Kalo, Bobby Kalo, Michael Kalo, Adrianna Kalo
  9. Religion
    Christian

Description

  1. Height
    183 cm
  2. Weight
    89 kg
  3. Build
    Well-built, from years of labourious work and street brawls
  4. Hair
    Free-spirited loose cut with strands often dangling down to his forehead, generally swooped backward loosely
  5. Eyes
    Dark brown
  6. Alignment
    Chaotic Neutral
  7. Features
    - A tattoo on his upper left arm of "Kalo is King" on a banner with crossed Colt 1911s, smoke pluming from the barrels
    - A tattoo of the Iron Front symbol on his left wrist
    - Right forearm is sleeved with a flame design, the flames engulfing a skull with "ENEMY" chiseled into the top of the frontal bone
    - A tattoo of "FAMILY" on his left pec, a bloodied, serrated combat knife replacing the "I"
    - Several small knife scars and abrasions to his skin line his body from his past

Background

"I've lived with my family, by my family, for my family--I'll die by them, too."

Colt Zander Kalo was the odd one out to the Kalo family of Brooklyn. His other brothers had their qualities they honed throughout their harsh, suburban, lower-class life in the ghettos of Brooklyn--Roy, the timid yet trouble-seeking one; Bobby, the trouble-making, rambunctious go-getter; Michael, the man just along for the ride his brothers brought him with; Adrianna, the gentle soul. Colt was a cut above the others, sharing qualities that perhaps he helped mold into each of the brothers, but with a collected mind and a desire for their success driving his brothers and sister into a set path which he aided them in. The oldest of the siblings, he was the chosen one to be the "leader" of sorts (though Colt himself will attest that there truly is no real way to lead a Kalo), helping the brothers in school and work alike.

Colt, despite being a tad bit more intelligent than the others, never finished high school--in fact, he never even finished middle school, dropping out in 6th grade after being expelled for selling ounces of weed to other students--at the innocent age of 12. With no father and an ailing mother, Colt was forced to pick up the reins of his family at a depressingly young age. The government, his community--they did nothing for him. He was forced to shape his own future with his family.

It was them against the world.

At 16, Colt was able to legally work (but he was performing plenty of odd jobs here and there along the way, many of which were illegal), and got a job at the docks in Jersey City. Being pushed into the harsh world that was, essentially, living on the streets of Brooklyn, the relatively young Colt was forced to fend for himself, which usually meant "fight others that want to hold you back with fists and knives." The tough physical labour of dock work suited him well enough--it was physically taxing, but mentally simple; this gave the young, unloaded mind of the eldest Kalo to consider his future, for himself and for his brothers, who were off obtaining their own ill-gotten gains to survive. Dock work helped pay some of the bills, but considering his young age and his already daunting criminal record, it was difficult for him to get anything more than part-time work for less than livable wages.

Life continued this way for several years; by the time he was 25 (and the other brothers were of their own relatively legal ages), he had begun to formulate a plan to get his family out of the cesspool that was lower-class Brooklyn and into the life he believed they all deserved for how hard they had worked to keep themselves afloat in the degenerative world they lived in.

"E'rybody knows about "tha big one," yea?" Colt gathered his brothers Roy, Bobby, and Michael around the dinner table as they slurped the last of their Ramen. "That one big job, that thing that just takes some wet-behind-da-ears clock-punchers or other shmuck poppin' in, poppin' out day-in day-out into a fuckin' millionaire. Everyone fucks it up, tho, right?!

"They think they're big-shots, that they can beat da system, they gon' walk into a fuckin' FDIC-insured Bank of America with a coupl-a AR-15s and a Remington, shout some cuss words at the bank teller and booyah, they walk oudda there with a couple million bucks. That ain't how the shit works, lemme tell ya.

But I know somethin' that sure as fuck will."

That night, Colt informed his brothers of his ultimate plan. No more hustling ounces of weed on the street, no more pushing knives in the faces of people that didn't deserve it just to get enough money to eat for the day, no more getting their ribs kicked in by forces bigger than them--oftentimes, those forces wearing blue uniforms with badges and Glocks. They would take down a low-security, high-payout location, make millions, and depart from the city that gave them nothing and took everything from them.

Scott Jewelers of south Brooklyn--a tiny yet well-stocked diamond and name-brand jewelry store which Colt cased one day while riding the bus and walking about the town, hoping some magnificent idea would come to him. Small, low security, extremely well-stocked.

With the few connections they had with the New York mafia, the brothers gathered their resources, with the assistance of their mafia partner, Vince Rossi, to officially case the jewelry store. Blueprints, original design plans, camera locations, security room key created, back-channeled semi-automatic rifles and shotguns for crowd control--they had everything planned.

The four brothers set out in an old chicken delivery box van, duffel bags and rifles strapped to their backs. Colt worked the crowd and shouted the orders at the security guard and staff on hand. Bobby kept the customers in check, ensuring no one clicked an alarm and hands of everyone were visible. Roy entered the security guard's office and destroyed the security tapes and all other equipment with multiple bullets. The four took turns keeping watch on the door and the employees while they stuffed their bags with diamond, ruby, emerald, and custom-designed necklaces, rings, bracelets, brooches, and anything else they deemed to be worth something. When the security guard saw an opportunity to trigger an alarm and reached for the button on the wall, Bobby quickly slammed the stock of his AR-15 into his head, dispatching him to unconsciousness.

The four rushed out in just 5 minutes, climbing into the van and speeding off, dumping the van into the Hudson River later that day and passing their hundreds of thousands of dollars of jewelry to their mobster partner.

Within 4 days, the Kalos were $125,000 richer.

With their newfound wealth, their mother's health failing, and their sister seeking a humanitarian mission (specifically, post-war trauma care, both physical and mental--it was her rather desire to aid victims of war), Chernarus was the oddly-accepted consensus the family found themselves agreeing on. Obviously, considering the brothers' unsettling criminal records, their passports and identities were forged and set up by their mafia partner as a sort of "going away gift" for the several hundred thousand they made for the Family, and the Kalos took a first-class plane to Miroslavl International Airport just weeks later.

 

3 years later, over a year into the infection that plagued their new home country, the brothers had been separated for far too long. Thrown across South Zagoria, Chernarus, and eastern Takistan, being here, there, and everywhere inbetween, Colt, after holding his ear to ham and handheld radios, mumblings of the word "Kalo" in South Zagoria.

He started east, destined to reunite what remained of his family.


1 Comment


Couldn't have said it better as a kalo. 🙂

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